


Quick Fix

by theStarfly



Series: Fantastic Fanatic [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Clumsy!Newt, Fluff, Gen, POV Newt Scamander, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Movie, Pre-Movie, Pre-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, character exploration, young Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theStarfly/pseuds/theStarfly
Summary: Newt Scamander is astoundingly good at repairs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Something I noticed offhand was that Newt is incredibly fast with repairs, bringing the building together before Tina arrives, and ready to fix the zoo even before the Erumpent finished essentially bulldozing it. It seems to commonplace to him, that it made me wonder how often he did it... and whether he had always been so skilled.

If anyone asks, Newt will just claim he was born full of raw, natural talent, but really, when he first started repairing things, he was mediocre at best. Oddly enough, he’d been rather fascinated with the muggle way of doing things as a child, learning where parts went and putting them back just so with glue and bits of tape, but as he grew past the general age of childhood clumsiness and didn’t get any less, well, clumsy, he realized muggle repairs weren’t going to cut it much longer.

The first time he repaired with magic something he’d broken, stumbled into while chasing a stray cat around the yard, he had been eight, and Theseus had been on holiday from Hogwarts. He had taken one look at the flower pot and bedraggled flower within, his pet project on the break, and had smirked at the obvious way it was barely holding itself together with sheer force of will, a bit of shoddy magic, and not much else.  
Newt had watched in awe as his brother had pulled him close to show him how it should have been done. “No use doing it with magic if anyone with half a brain and at least one eye can tell it’s meant to be broken. That’s what glue is for,” he chided, ruffling Newt’s hair. He crouched behind Newt, fingers placed over Newt’s much smaller, grubbier hands, and moved Newt’s hand with his as he muttered “repairo,” guiding Newt’s magic in the same way. Newt’s eyes glowed with excitement as the pot was really, truly mended this time, no tape required; the flowers unbent before his eyes, evidence of his clumsiness erased as he watched.  
Eyes sparkling with the happiness of a child who’s learned a new trick, Newt turned a toothy grin up to his brother, and threw his arms around him in a hug.   
“You’re the _best_ , Thessy! I want to be _just like you_ someday!”  
He had been too young to understand the frown on his brother’s face at the time, but immediately forgot his confusion as Theseus patted his head and pulled him close. “Old man like me?” Newt giggled into Theseus’s shirt; his brother was old, but certainly not yet an old man. “Nah, I’d rather be like you when I grow up, Nu. You make the magical seem totally magical again. You had better not ever change, you hear your old brother?”

  
Newt had taken it to heart, solemnly vowing to keep the same spark, even if he didn’t understand what his brother meant. But it was _important_. Apparently, however, so had his body, because while he learned to catch himself before he fell, and had a sixth sense for grabbing mugs, books, pens, papers, creatures, paintings… from the air _after_ he knocked them off the table, chair, shelf, wall, he never really gained a sense of balance, or where he and his belongings were in space.  
And he had gotten really quite good at repairing the damage to items (and buildings) as soon as he failed to save them from his creatures or his poor sense of his own flailing limbs.  
But if people knew that, they would likely realize exactly how much mayhem and destruction followed him everywhere he went. After all, it took a _lot_ of practice to be able to charm a building back to perfect repair in a matter of seconds, sometimes before it was even finished crumbling. And he’d never yet been truly arrested or punished for any of it, even that one time with half the city block that he’d been lucky to catch at a time when most of its residents had been asleep or at work— strange timing, that.  
So, if anyone asked, he was born with the talent to repair with a flick of his wand. And Theseus was a bloody liar if he said otherwise.


End file.
